Gorillaz -The Swine and the Lamb
by FickHead
Summary: The story of Gorillaz told by the point of view of their "lost bandmate" (OC)


**Hello, I've been working up the courage (over the past four years- when I first started constructing this monster) to post one of my writings on here. I have many... many other chapters in the works but I just want to see how this one plays out. Juniper is an OC I made years ago and I pray she doesn't seem too Mary- Sue to you guys. Well, enough of me- I hope you enjoy. **

**NOTE: I can't remember for the life of me where Murdoc was actually born and I do not have the strength to change this in the story so let's all just pretend he grew up in Edinburgh**

Chapter One- The Cease of Juniper's Orbit

My name is, or... I guess was, Juniper Mendell. My father, Marcus Mendell at the age of 24, had married my mother, Cynthia O' Rourke age 20. My father who was a sharp tongued Scotsman and my mother- a well mannered beauty from whales, had gotten married on the 31st of June two years after they had met. Would you believe if I said not even a month later after the reception a baby girl was was to be expected. They named me Juniper (June, Juniper. Boy how clever). Nine months later I was born and my mother died. Marcus struggled to care for me and by the time I had reached the age of seven he had proudly claimed the title of the town drunk. Along with the drink he loved the side of emotional trauma and the pinch of belt lashings he would give to me after he had drank the pubs dry. That was my life: booze, beatings, booze, beatings. It was an unstopping cycle of childhood abuse. Until.. he came along.

On a day like no other I was dragged along side my father to some pub named after a famous Scottish hunter... something along those lines- nobody can ever remember the details quite crystal clearly. I remember though I screamed something along the lines of,

"Papa, papa no please don't!" The swine then almost tore me arm off pulling me up to his face. His eyes drooped heavily with multiple bags forming underneath them and his whiskers smelt of the cheapest liquor to inhabit this part of Edinburgh.

"Shut yer mowfff" he slurred "Wot du ya think yer movver wold say hrm! Seein ya act up 'ike this" he continued to snarl.

My response was drilled into my head for it was the only answer acceptable,

"She would bash me 'ead and say 'Respect you're own father ya ungrateful prat'" I answered lowering my eyes away from his.

He dropped me back to the floor and dragged me along his merry way. We entered the pub

and I bumped into a tall lanky boy with the sickest complexion I've ever seen. He looked down at me with a glare at first but his expression soon changed after our eyes met. I was thrown into a corner and the drunk waltzed up to the bar, stolen coins in hand. As I cowered and played with the patchy potato sack of a dress I wore, I was so focused on holding back aching sobs begging to be released from my throat I didn't notice shiny black boots walking towards me.

I peeped through my interlocked fingers to see the boy I had bumped into entering the pub. He was staring down at me intently and my attention was drawn to his two distinctly colored eyes, his left being a glazed over black and his right a beating red pupil smack dab in the middle- analyzing my every move. I must've been staring at that right eye a bit too hard because he suddenly looked away from me.

"Oh goodness" I muttered "please excuse me sir I didn't mean to offend-"

He shook his head "Don't matter, you're Mendells kid right"

I looked over to my father who was looking to start a fight with the bartender after only being here for a few short minutes. I then looked back to the tall boy and shook my head yes. The boy removed the remainder of his smoking cigaret from his mouth and preceded to stomp at it frantically as it hit the floor. I coughed nervously,

"You know my father?" he looked over to me and smirked,

"Who doesn't luv, isn't he famous for the amount of liquor he can hold in this town?"

My eyes averted back to the floor and I nodded. Then, slowly, the boy squatted down to my eye level and flicked the top of my head. I began to protest but he continued to talk over me,

"I also know quite a bit about you _Junipar_" he smiled, suddenly I recognized the boy. I looked down over to his hands and I was not surprised from what I saw. Each of his fingers had long pointed nails, nails that I hoped would never get anywhere near my ivory skin. This was Murdoc Niccals, this boy was quite popular in my little town. Seeing dead people and speaking in tongues as a child wasn't easily forgotten, there were multiple rumors being spread at the time that he himself was the spawn of satan and that his soul was already surely damned. I had thought that he was just a legend, a fable if you will, that mothers told their kids- but there he was staring straight at me. I looked back up to his face and sucked in a mouthful of air before saying his name.

"You're Muddoc aren't you... Muddoc Nicalls" he didn't cease to break eye contact with me,

"Please don't hurt me I don't mean you any harm and I won't tell anybody I've seen you I promi-!" he stuck his thumb to my mouth,

"You've 'eard of me which makes my job here easier. It's MuRR doc kid not Muddoc- I aint a pile of wet dirt." I interrupted him.

"Well then my name is JunipEEr"

"Wot..?"

"You said it JuniPAR it's JuniPER... sir" I gulped.

"Oooh the nerve on you! I quite like it not going to lie." that made me smile.. I couldn't remember the last time I had smiled. I surely didn't remember how good it felt; and then came another thought.

"Everybody hates you" I thought aloud. Murdoc copied my sucking noise,

"Oh luv that's cold." I then looked up red faced and embarrassed at my rude outburst,

"Oh no! No I didn't... I mean, you don't have to stay here so why are you surrounding yourself with people that want nothing to do with you." He scratched at the stubble on his chin and responded,

"Well I've surprisingly done all that for you."

"For me? You don't even know who I am! I mean I could be the most ungrateful slobbering brat you've ever met and you would've just waisted all your time on me." he uttered a dry and eery giggle at my remark. I tilted my head and decided to open my big mouth yet again,

"Y'know you're not as scary as everyone says you are. I've heard everything everyone has to say about you and I'm starting to feel they're not all true." He smirked at this and stood back up drawing another cigaret from his jean pocket,

"I've 'erd of you too" he said reaching back into his pocket for a matchbook. I didn't understand him I mean what was there to speak of. Just the daughter of a drunk. He must have noticed my puzzled expression because his plain face turned into a broad and terrifying smile revealing his sharpened teeth.

"You're _special" _the emphasis he slapped onto "special" sent a sharp chill running down my back.

"Who would-" I was cut short yet again,

"You're very popular in my world Ms. Mendell, and trust me when I say that's something you _do not_ pray to hear."

"P-please you're scaring me" I squeaked. He chuckled, a sound very much unlike the giggle I had heard earlier which sent another wave of pricks throughout my body. He slowly lit his second cigaret and took a long drag from it. He looked back to my father who was still consuming mugs of beer one after the other.

"Why don't you run away" I asked. He looked back at me puzzled. "You're treated as badly... or even badlier than I am and you can run away."

"There's nothing out there to run away to" he responded sharply,

"It wouldn't matter to me... I would run away, I would run so far my legs would probably turn to rubber after all the running I would have to do."

"Well Juniper" he puffed at his cigaret "the real question is then, wot are you gonna do 'bout it?"

I sat there dumbfounded. I didn't have an answer to his question, I didn't think a mere seven year old could stand up for herself and leave a life as piss as the one I had behind.

"You don't like it here, hm?" he muttered throwing down his second cigaret to the ground and snuffing it out.

"I've said that yeah.." I replied warily.

"Well kid-"

"Juni-"

"Right shat it, your name could be fick head for all I care." I averted my eyes back to the floor once again,

"I don't like it 'ere Muddoc.. not one bit" he flinched at the mispronunciation of his name and lowered his claw of a hand down to me.

"Come on then fick 'ead. Do something about it."

I looked up to this hand- to what I thought was salvation. At the age of seven and a half I had no regard for not trusting strangers for I couldn't even trust my own blood. I was being given a choice to run away from all of my problems. A choice to forget the belt lashings covering my back and the loud bangings and sobs of a mad man throughout the night. So, being the unknowing seven year old I was I took his hand and boy- did we run, we ran so fast and so far... we ran together and we never stopped.


End file.
